


Chop Shop

by morsecodefortwo



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: AU, F/F, first chapter is so short im sorry, maybe slow burn idk, rating might change lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-01 16:38:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19181716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morsecodefortwo/pseuds/morsecodefortwo
Summary: AU. Carmilla Karnstein, backed by a few loyal friends, runs an underground bicycle chop shop. For years, she's been able to evade capture, all while keeping her anonymity. Until one night- when she steals a bike from a very determined, very angry young journalist who just won't give up.





	1. Chapter 1

Carmilla Karnstein was good at a lot of things. 

Riding bikes was not one of them.

That’s what she told herself as she cruised down 74th on a ‘90 Schwinn Aluminum, skidding between two lanes of traffic and cursing herself as she maneuvered between two oncoming cars before meeting the sidewalk in a way that was anything but graceful. She weaved through waves of pedestrian, ignoring the dirty looks and shouts of dismay, before turning down a seemingly abandoned alleyway and coming to an abrupt stop before a small door.

She dropped the bike and knocked on the door twice, hard, assessing the damage she’d taken during her chase while she waited- only a scraped knee, but she wasn’t pleased. She watched the blood drip impatiently.

“Take some fall damage?”

She looked up. The door was wide open, and on the other side, her friend and coworker with a toothy, satisfied grin.

“I told you I don’t know how to ride a bike. Help me get it inside,” she huffed.

“It’s just a little scrape, Moody. Will you feel better if I put a Band-Aid on it?”

“LaFontaine, you’re lucky we’re such good friends. Today has not been my day and if you were anyone else I’d murder you.”

She settled into the small warehouse, collapsing onto a couch in the corner of the room and kicking her feet up. She shoved two pizza boxes onto the floor and closed her eyes, feeling a headache come on.

“I know,” they beamed, securely pressing a Band-Aid onto Carmilla’s wound, “So the guy didn’t give up his bike easy?”

“Anything but. I tried to take it while he was in the store, really discreetly, but he came out. He just started yelling at me, chasing me,” she paused to think momentarily, “And I lost my stupid bolt cutters!”

LaFontaine put a reassuring hand on their friend’s shoulder, “Relax. So you’re not meant to be out in the field- you’re a freaking mastermind in here! Danny will be back on Tuesday, and she’ll take over. It’ll be fine.”

“What kind of vampire can’t steal a fucking bike? Gods, I can’t even ride a fucking bike!” Carmilla sighed dejectedly, “Maybe I just need more practice, but if I keep messing up, we’re all going to jail.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself. That Schwinn bike you brought in is going to pull us $500 cash, easy. You’re our finances guy, the brains of the operation, not a bike thief,” they paused, “but if you think a little more practice will help, there’s a 2019 Trek bike over on 82nd. I saw it when I went to lunch. It might still be there.”

Carmilla stood suddenly, tying her jacket around her waist and heading for the door before stopping. She turned to LaFontaine, “Do we have anymore bolt cutters?”

_________________________________________________________________________________

Carmilla hit 82nd street just as dusk had completely broken. The usually booming street was quieter than normal, but still crowded with a mixture of tourists and annoyed New Yorkers making the commute home. She walked aimlessly at first, beginning to lose hope when after several minutes of searching, she had yet to locate the bike. Then, out of the corner of her eye.

Bingo.

Chained to a mailbox next to the street, hidden perfectly from the public eye by a line of parked cars, a blue Trek bike, waiting to be stolen.

She moved quickly, bending down beside the bike and pulling the bolt cutters from her hoodie pouch. She pulled, hard, sighing with relief as the bike lock fell to the ground and clattered. Now for a daring escape.

“Hey, what the heck are you doing to my bike?”

Carmilla’s first instinct was to run. She fumbled with the bike, struggling to get adjusted and pedal at the same time. Her hands slipped from the handlebars, slick with sweat, but she kept a cool demeanor.

“I’m taking it,” she called behind her as she began to push off.

She’d barely made it a block before she noticed the girl, running after her at full speed, looking exceptionally determined as she gained speed. She was catching up. Carmilla pushed harder, forcing her way through passersby on a bike she couldn’t ride for the second time that day, and she was exhausted.

She wasn’t sure when exactly the girl caught up to her. All she knew was that she now had an incredibly aggressive, incredibly attractive blonde standing in front of the bike, blocking her from her escape and ranting madly.

“I mean, seriously, my bike? Did you think I didn’t see you? I was watching you from my apartment the second you walked up to it. I 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥 you take it! Did you seriously think I was just gonna let you take my bike?” 

Carmilla turned to leave, scoffing when she realized the girl had no plans to let her through, “Look, I get it. I took your bike. I suck. You’re gonna call the cops, blah, blah, blah. I don’t care. You can let me through now.”

The other girl stood her ground, one hand forcefully on the handlebars, “I’m not leaving without my bike. I have mace, and I’m not afraid to use it.”

“Oh, Mace!” Carmilla feigned fear before letting a deep laugh out, “What’s your name, Mace?”

“You don’t need to know my name!” Carmilla could tell that the girl was losing patience. “It’s Laura, but I don’t see how that matters! Give me my bike back!”

“This bike? But I’m on this bike. What bike am I supposed to ride?” At this point, riling the girl up had become entertaining.

“You’re supposed to get your own bike!”

“Now where would the fun in that be?” she inquired, tilting her head to the side, “Laura’s a pretty name.”

“Will you tell me yours now? It’ll make it easier for the police to find you once I file a report.”

Carmilla smiled slightly, “Didn’t I already tell you I don’t care if you call the cops? I’ll tell you again. I don’t care if you call the cops. You do what you have to do, but Laura, Mace, Cupcake, I’m taking this bike.”

With that, she jerked suddenly, knocking the other girl’s hand off the bike and barreling down the sidewalk before cutting into the street and crossing. She needed to lose this girl, and she needed to lose her now.

She pedaled wildly, feet slipping and hands still drenched in sweat, accompanied by a new feeling she couldn’t quite place. She had no time to ponder, however, as the alley came up quickly. She turned and found herself back at the door, knocking again.

“Back for more already?” LaFontaine teased, holding the door open for Carmilla to push the bike inside.

“I thought it would be easier at night, but this girl caught me. I don’t know how Danny does this stuff undetected.”

“Danny’s luckier than us, I guess. So, was she mad? Another cop caller?”

“She said she was calling the cops. Should we ditch the ones we have in stock? I can take them to the river.”

“We’re a bicycle chop shop, Vampy, we’re not killing people. They’re not going to come for us. Relax, that’s another $650 right there.” LaFontaine pointed to the new bike in the corner, “Which means I can order pizza for dinner.”

Carmilla rolled her eyes teasingly, lying back on the couch and gesturing for her friend to sit beside her. She rolled a joint between her fingers, a shimmer in her eye, before sticking one end in her mouth and lighting it. “It also means we’ve earned this,” she murmured, taking a moment to exhale her hit.

They passed the joint between each other for several minutes, quipping about the day and shit talking coworkers as per usual. A knock on the door startled them out of their own personal bubble.

“There’s no way the pizza’s here already,” LaFontaine whispered, a sudden edge to their cool demeanor.

Carmilla stamped the joint out on the heel of her boot, “Do you think somebody smelled it and called the cops?”

“No, if it was the cops, they’d say it was the cops.”

“Maybe this is a raid.” Carmilla crept closer to the door, picking up a baseball bat and wielding it cautiously, “Who’s there?”

Thick silence settled over the room before three more hard knocks. Carmilla and LaFontaine shared an intense look, both with a clear understanding that something was amiss.

“Hey, asshole!” came a voice from the other side. “You took my freaking bike!”

Carmilla lowered the bat, “Oh, fuck.”


	2. Chapter 2

A heavy silence fell over the warehouse. Carmilla turned to LaFontaine, gesturing a finger over her lips for silence. “If we pretend we’re not here, maybe she’ll go away,” she whispered softly.

This method, however, proved ineffective. A steady, impatient stream of taps fell upon the door, growing closer together as the patience of the girl on the other side dwindled. 

“I know you’re in there! I followed you, and I watched you go in here. You can’t get rid of me!”

Carmilla groaned, “She’s bound to draw attention. I have to let her in. Hide her bike, LaF.”

LaFontaine moved quietly through the room, wheeling the freshly stolen bike into an empty maintenance closet before giving an encouraging thumbs-up.

“Okay, okay, I’m going to let you in, but you need to shut up, okay?” she pleaded with the other girl.

Another daunting silence settled over the warehouse. Carmilla used this opportunity to kick the door open and pull the other girl in by the shirtsleeve, baseball bat still tucked tightly into her side. She nudged the girl onto the floor, a bit rougher than she intended, and let the door close on its own.

“Seriously? You steal my bike and then you throw me onto the ground? You’re… you’re a really, really mean person, did you know that?”

Carmilla couldn’t help but smile at the girl before her. She reached a hand out, “I’m sorry, Mace, can I help you up?”

“You can’t even remember my name!” Laura scoffed, shooing the hand away and standing up on her own, “I don’t want any help from you, I just want my bike back.”

LaFontaine interjected, “Your bike is gone. I’m really sorry.”

“In my defense,” Carmilla drawled, “I’ve never seen somebody so determined to get back a stupid bike. You chased me, what, ten blocks?”

“Fifteen,” Laura huffed, “and it’s not about the bike! It’s about the principle.”

“The principle?”

“Yes, the principle! The principle where stealing my bike is wrong and you shouldn’t do it!”

Carmilla pondered for a moment, piecing together a plan. She knew this girl was determined, that in minutes, everything she had worked for in the last five years could be diminished. Not only did this persistent little blonde have the location of their warehouse, she could without a doubt ID Carmilla, as the two had had far more face to face time than Carmilla was comfortable with.

Was all of this worth it? Carmilla had no inclination for bikes, and she didn’t particularly care what happened to the business, but she was a pawn in a larger game. She needed to diffuse the situation, quickly. Mother would be so angry with her.

“Listen, Laura,” she spoke tenderly, “you’ve really opened our eyes. We didn’t realize we were upsetting people this bad. We’ll stop.”

“Come on!” Laura sighed heavily, scoping out her surroundings, “This room has at least 50 bikes in it. You expect me to believe you’re just going to stop? Do I look naive?”

“And provincial, if I’m being honest.”

Laura stepped to Carmilla, fuming. Carmilla wasn’t exactly afraid- the other girl was significantly smaller, but she found her confidence to be endearing. That is, until the girl had taken out a can of mace, as promised before, and sprayed it directly into her eyes.

She wasn’t afraid then. She was mad.

Everything transpired quickly, but the tense standoff seemed to go on for ages. Carmilla wobbled to her knees, aggressively rubbing at the burning sensation she now felt in most of her face, grunting upon the realization that her vision was too blurred for her to strike back.

“Don’t come near me!” Laura’s voice came suddenly, “I’ll mace you, too!”

LaFontaine put their hands up defensively, “I’m going to check on my friend. You know, the one you just pepper sprayed in the eyeballs?”

“It’s bear mace, not pepper spray!” Laura sounded exasperated now, “Just give me my bike back.”

She felt someone, who she quickly realized was LaF, at her side, pushing a wet rag over her eyes. Nothing soothed the burning that continued to rage. She sighed in defeat.

“Give her the stupid bike back and get rid of her.”

LaF sighed audibly, shuffling around the warehouse. Carmilla couldn’t see what was taking place, but the sound of bike tires on concrete gave her a pretty good idea. She sighed in relief.

Soon, this would all be over.

If only.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Carmilla threw her hands into the air, seething with rage, “What more do you fucking want? We gave you your dumb bike, and I’m legally blind! Get the fuck out!”

“You’re not legally blind. It’ll stop in a few minutes. Milk helps. But seriously, I’m not leaving so you can keep doing this to other people.”

She opted to ignore the other girl for fear of what she might do if she didn’t, turning to LaFontaine instead, “Do we have any milk?”

“I downed the last of it this morning on some Cookie Crisp. Give me five minutes!”

With that, LaFontaine was out the door, leaving the two girls to settle their differences alone.

“If I could definitively see where you were, I’d punch you in the face.”

A blurry hand settled beside her shoulder, slowly, cautiously, “Let me help you to the couch.”

She pushed the hand away defiantly, “You don’t need my help, I don’t need your help, either.”

Making her way to the couch solo, however, proved to be quite a challenge. Carmilla could make out outlines, blurred outlines, but her legs felt weak and her pounding head did nothing to make it easier. She felt a hand press to her back slightly, coaxing her. She felt an urge to shove it away, but instead she took the help she had been offered, grunting when she finally felt the couch underneath her. She settled onto the couch, pressing the wet rag back onto her eyes before letting silence overcome the room once again. 

She waited several moments before taking the rag off again. Her vision was coming back now, but the burn was yet to be eased. On the edge of the couch, she spotted her assailant, sitting timidly with her arms in her lap.

“I’m sorry that I sprayed you in the face with bear mace.”

Carmilla couldn’t contain the bitter laugh that erupted, “Regular pepper spray wasn’t enough for you?”

“Not that I owe you an explanation, but my dad got me that. For warding off bears. Neither of us thought some asshole would take my bike!” she was getting heated again, “I’m sorry. You’re not some asshole. But to be fair, you did take my bike.”

“And I gave it back, which means you can go now.”

“But what you’re doing is wrong! You have to know that.”

Carmilla sat upright, staring at the girl in an intimidation attempt. She smiled, watching her squirm uncomfortably, but sighed again when she made no attempt to get up and leave, “I’m not the mastermind here. I’m a pawn. I’m a really, really small fish, in a really, really big pond, and I’m not trying to get eaten. Whether you understand that or not, I have things I need to get done.”

“If someone is making you do this, I can help. We can go to the police, and you can tell them who made you, and then you won’t be in trouble!”

“You want me to walk into a police station? And say what? ‘Hey, guys, sorry I’ve stolen a thousand bikes over the last five years, but it wasn’t my idea, so don’t throw me in jail!’ That’s not how the real world works,” she sneered, “And nobody’s forcing me to do this.”

“You’re insufferable!” Laura was shouting now, forehead vein protruding as evidence of her rage, “I guess I’ll just go with my plan B.”

“Which is?” Carmilla drawled, taking the pause that followed to spark another pre-roll she’d tucked away under the couch.

“Which is,” Laura coughed dramatically, waving her hands to clear the smoke from her face, “wait for you to leave, follow you, and cause a huge scene every time you try to take another bike. Or, better yet, get evidence of you doing it. I think there’s plenty here. I already took pictures on my phone. And don’t try to take it, because it’s between my boobies, and you’re not getting it.”

“You think I wouldn’t reach in there?” Carmilla grinned before turning serious, “So, what do you get out of all this sleuthing? There a bounty on my head? The big, bad bicycle thief terrorizing the streets of New York?”

 

“It’s not about money. I’m a journalist. It’s about the truth.”

The girl wasn’t giving up. Carmilla felt another surge of rage. The audacity of this girl, this one girl, was astounding. Her mind raced, struggling to determine what to do next.

She could kill her.

Mother would want her to get rid of anyone standing in the way, especially anyone with as much evidence against Carmilla as Laura had. It should be easy. One swipe, a clean broken neck, and LaF could help her ditch the body- whenever they came back.

But she couldn’t.

Still, the anger she was experiencing was unmatched. She stood up despite the ache she still felt, inhaling from the joint in a futile attempt to calm herself.

“You want the truth?” she was in the smaller girl’s face now, “My mother is Lilita Morgan, the politician. She ran for mayor three years ago and lost to some ancient white guy. She devised the perfect plan- one to bring up crime rates under his leadership, so he’d lose the reelect and she could be voted in. Bicycle thefts are up in New York City by 65%, and that’s thanks to me. If you investigate, you will be killed by my mother. Is that enough truth for you?”

She could see the gears turning in Laura’s head as she processed the information, “Why are you telling me this?”

Carmilla backed away from the smaller girl, feigning innocence, before closing back in until she was inches away from her left ear. “Because nobody will ever believe you,” she breathed softly, letting her lips linger before pulling back again.

“They’ll believe me if I have proof.”

“My mother doesn’t get caught. Did you not just hear me tell you that she will have us all killed without a second thought? Because she will. I told you, I’m a pawn in a much larger game,” she paused to hit the joint again, “Can you leave now?”

“So, your mom just gets away with it? Stealing bikes to win a reelection?”

Carmilla laughed softly at the other girl’s innocence, “You think this is about bikes? The bikes are a pawn, I’m a pawn, we’re all pawns. The bikes are just a piece. Petty theft, armed robbery, murder, you name it, my mother has people carrying it out. Anything to push crime rates up.”

“So, that’s her plan? Pay people to commit crimes so she can swoop in and save the city? From herself?”

“You’ll understand one day.”

“Or, you’ll understand one day that covering for your mother is wrong. All of this is wrong.”

“And let me guess; you know what’s right? You’re the pinnacle of goodness and wholesomeness? You’re wasting your time, Laura. Nobody will believe you if you talk, and if they do, you’ll be killed the moment you say her name. That’s the only reason I told you any of this- because you need to drop it, and you need to drop it now.

Another tense standoff began between the two girls. Carmilla was intrigued, and admittedly aroused, by the smaller girl’s determination, but the fear her mother had instilled overpowered much else. The two sat in a silent stare-off, waiting, daring the other to make a move.

Laura’s voice was soft yet strong as she reached a hand out hesitantly before resting it atop Carmilla’s, “Let me help you.”

LaFontaine’s arrival shattered them from their own little world. They paraded in cheerfully, proudly holding up a gallon of milk, before stopping in their tracks, “Am I interrupting?”

“No!” Laura squeaked, standing suddenly and retrieving her bike, “I was just about to leave.”

“So, should I just dump this in her eyes?” LaF inquired, watching the girl as she made her way to the door.

“Yeah, it’ll help with the burning,” she turned to Carmilla a final time, “Please think about what I said.”

And Laura was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

“So, she really maced you in the eyes?”

Danny’s return from vacation brought Carmilla comfort, as she knew she’d no longer be in the field stealing bikes herself, but her incessant questions about what had transpired several nights before were wearing fast, and she found herself growing increasingly annoyed.

“Where else would she mace me, Danny?”

“Gods, calm down, I was just asking. I leave for a week and the whole operation almost collapses. And nobody to make your coffee! How did you survive?” Danny jested, pushing a warm cup of coffee into Carmilla’s hands, “Here, a peace offering. I’ll never leave you again.”

Carmilla could feel her eyes hit the back of her head when she rolled them, but she accepted the warm beverage gratefully, “If you didn’t make the best coffee in the world, I’d throw you out on the streets.”

“So where was she? I’ll go get the bike back today.”

“Hmm?”

“The girl, the one who came here acting all crazy. Where is she? I’ll go steal the bike back, LaF said it was a good one.”

Carmilla tried to hide her disdain, “I think we should let her keep it. I mean, she put up a hell of a fight for it.”

“I think I see what’s going on,” Danny mused, pouring herself a cup of coffee before continuing, “Carmilla’s got a little crush.”

“I do not,” Carmilla defended, attempting to sound uninterested, “I just think anyone who fights that hard for a dumb bike deserves to keep it.”

“And I think we need money to keep the lights on here,” Danny sighed, “but since she means so much to you, I guess we can let her keep the bike. Where was it, though, just out of curiosity? I’ll avoid the street today if I can, just in case she called the cops.”

“82nd, I think. Be careful today.”

“Careful is for boring people. You know that by now. All I need is a little luck.”

“Yeah, well when luck runs out, give me a call.”

Danny stopped at the door, looking back at her friend with a small smile, “I know you missed me, Vampire.”

With that, Danny was gone, leaving Carmilla in the warehouse alone. She sighed contently, welcoming the silence this time, until the ringing of her own phone brought her back.

“Hello?” she answered lazily, stifling a yawn.

“Vampire, it’s LaF. Three cruisers just went by, sirens blaring. I think they’re headed for the warehouse. You need to dip, fast.”

“Are you sure?”

The words had barely left Carmilla’s lips when two hard taps to the door echoed throughout the previously quiet warehouse. She bolted for the back door just as it opened, revealing two police officers, guns raised. 

“Do you have any weapons?” the first demanded, inching closer as he spoke.

“On your knees,” came the other, “Search her.”

Two pairs of rough hands forced her to her knees, the grainy warehouse floor scraping against her open wounds. She clawed at the hands, unable to identify who was who, but managing to slam both onto the ground without much effort. She twisted the first into a tight choke hold, a tight grip on the other one’s arm to keep him complacent. 

The front door burst open. A sea of officers, guns drawn and pointed directly at Carmilla’s head. She wondered then how many of them she’d have to kill, and how she’d manage to explain all of this to Danny and LaF. Behind the feds came a shadow, one she’d seen many times before

“Calm down, boys, she’s not going to kill them.”

She knew that voice.

“Mother.”

“Mircalla,” her mother hissed, a sarcastic kindness to her brutal tone, “how lovely to see you. You look well.”

“I’m as dead as I’ve ever been,” she spat back, “You brought the cops?”

“I 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘥 these officers,” she reaffirmed, “I 𝘰𝘸𝘯 these officers. Don’t you know that by now?”

“What is this about?”

“I own this city, Mircalla. You think I don’t know what goes on?”

The officers kept their guns aimed. Carmilla released the two, finding the first to be unconscious, “Can you call them off? I can assure you, I have no idea what you’re speaking of.”

“I’ll call them off once I’ve made myself clear,” her mother took a dramatic pause, “A friend of yours came into the police station this morning making some WILD accusations about yours truly. All of these allegations were false, of course, but it got me thinking.”

“You’re always thinking, mother. That’s what got us into this.”

Carmilla stood, face to face with the woman who had raised her, feet apart, wondering how easy it would be to kill her. How close to her could she get before her goons opened fire? How could she do it?

She remained stoic as her mother crept closer, closing the distance between them, leaving a hand to rest gently on Carmilla’s face, “I began to wonder, ‘Where could she get such crazy ideas?’ But then it clicked,” she paused again, this time to let her hand wander, gripping Carmilla’s hair tightly, “My own daughter has been speaking ill on my name.”

Carmilla struggled against her mother’s strong grip, attempting to remain calm, “That’s not the case,”

Her mother’s grip only strengthened as she spit, “Have you been speaking poorly of me, Mircalla?”

“Mother, I wasn’t,” Carmilla pulled relentlessly, her scalp beginning to ache, “I had to get her off our scent. She followed me to the warehouse. I told her, because I knew nobody would believe her. I told her nobody would ever believe her.”

She seemed to contemplate this momentarily, silently in thought before finally releasing her hold on Carmilla’s hair, “I expected more from you. I hope that you know by now better than to cross me.”

“I do.”

“Good,” her mother’s tone became hardened again, “because you’d only be telling on yourself, darling. This place? All you. If you want to sell yourself out and go to prison for stealing bicycles, be my guest, but you’d never be able to prove my involvement. Serve your time in an American prison if you must. And once you’ve served your time, I have just the perfect box to bury you in.”

“I’m not going to cross you.”

Her mother seemed to soften, but Carmilla knew it to be a ruse, “You’ve seemed unhappy lately. I suppose I thought it was because of me, and for that, I thought that you might betray me.”

“I’d never betray you,” Carmilla knew she was lying as she spoke, “but I have been unhappy. This place, this warehouse, stealing bikes,” she released a long, exaggerated sigh, “I’m bored.”

“I know, my love. You need to start thinking bigger picture. You’re skyrocketing bike thefts, Mattie’s excelling in bringing up armed robbery numbers. Crime rates are the highest they’ve been since the riots.”

“But that’s what I mean, mother. Mattie gets to rob people with guns, and I get to steal bikes chained up to street signs?”

“Oh, I know it doesn’t seem fair, but it’s all going to be worth it,” her mother assured her, but again, Carmilla recognized her ruse, “Once I win this election, I’ll be sure you’re rewarded greatly for your hard work. And the loyalty you’ve showed me.”

The words were meant to bring Carmilla hope, but instead they felt like a threat.

“So, you just came to scare me?”

“To remind you of what’s at stake,” her mother insisted, “and to remind you of how important loyalty is in this family.”

“I know.”

“Then we’ll be on our way,” her mother stopped as she turned to the exit, “What was the name of the girl?”

“What girl?”

“That nosy pest that had the audacity to come down here. Do you have a name? I’ll make sure she doesn’t bother you again.”

Carmilla felt her heart sink. She needed to lie.

“I can’t remember off the top of my head. I’ll ask LaF if they know, they’re the one who gave me the tip on the bike.”

“You don’t think this was a setup, do you? LaFontaine and this girl working together? I don’t have to keep an eye on them, too, do I?”

Carmilla was internally relieved. Her mother had been distracted, “LaF’s loyal. They’d never do us poorly.”

“You trust them?”

“With all of me.”

“I’m going to trust your judgement, and if I regret it, it’s your head,” her mother made her way out before calling back, “Don’t worry about that girl, darling. She left her name down at the police station. I won’t let her be a nuisance to you again.”

The sinking feeling was back, stronger, pulsing through her body. Her legs felt weak and her breath was shaky.

She didn’t know exactly what she was experiencing, or why she was necessarily experiencing it, but she knew one thing.

She needed to warn Laura.


End file.
